


Loyal

by sunnyinho



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, FC Barcelona, M/M, possible future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyinho/pseuds/sunnyinho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loyalty was a trait that seemed to be lacking in Marc and Neymar's failed relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hello? Earth to Marc,” Sergi frowned, waving his hand in Marc’s face.

“Huh? Sorry…” Marc replied, shaking himself from his fog and looking up from his phone.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes. Is that really that important?,” Sergi sighed. This was becoming an everyday thing and he didn’t like it. Sure, we all tend to get wrapped up in our phones every once in a while, but this was getting ridiculous.

“I…it’s not…I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” Marc stammered, stuffing his phone in his pocket, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible. “You want to go lay down?”

Sergi gave a defeated shrug. “Guess we should.” He stood up and held his hand out to Marc, definitely not ready to change the subject, but also not in the mood for an argument. Marc stood and took his hand, kissing it gently. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sergi replied, feeling the knot in his stomach grow tighter by the second. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what had Marc so distracted, or rather, who. He guessed he was starting to get used to the idea that he would always be Marc’s second priority, but the acceptance didn’t make him feel any better about himself.

The two silently walked to Marc’s bedroom, stripping down to their underwear and climbing into bed, settling under the covers. “I hate this,” Sergi piped up after a few minutes of awkward silence. “We’re way too young for this, we act like an old married couple.”

“How do you mean?” Marc asked, genuinely confused. He’d thought things were going well for them, he’d thought he was keeping Sergi happy.

“We sit around, you spend all your time on the phone, we go to bed and go to sleep. I need more than that, Marc…I’m only 22.”

“I know that. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” Understatement of the year.

“I’m aware. I’ll be here when you decide to stop thinking about him so much, okay? Good night.” Sergi kissed Marc’s cheek gently, rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, anxious to forget about this day already.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc isn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

Marc stayed awake while Sergi slept, thinking about what he’d said. He was right, he was usually right, a fact that Marc really hated sometimes. He had spent the entire summer trying, unsuccessfully, to forget the past year of his life. Sergi was supposed to be a big part of making him forget and he was doing his part, it was Marc who was struggling.

He sighed as he picked up his phone, scrolling through the pictures he couldn’t bring himself to delete, the ones Sergi knew Marc still had, but he never said anything about them. All smiles, nothing but happiness in their eyes – in the locker room, at training, lounging around at home, in bed – and now they barely acted as though each other existed. He blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes, feeling stupid for practically _crying_ over someone who obviously didn’t care about him anymore. He stuffed his phone underneath his pillow and rolled onto his side, gently pulling a sleeping Sergi closer against him, desperately wishing to better appreciate what he had, rather than dwell on what was once his.

In another part of Barcelona, the object of Marc’s frustration lay in bed, sleep eluding him also. That was a pretty common occurrence, though – he had issues going into shutdown mode, so he was constantly existing on very little sleep. He was used to being tired all the time and often joked that he could use an IV of the Red Bull he always had in his hand.

He picked up his phone and scanned the contact list, wondering who would be up at this hour that he could bother. He scrolled down with a sigh, then back up, deciding to go with someone older and therefore wiser than he.

**Dani…you awake?**

He smirked at the response that followed. _No, I’m texting you in my sleep. What is it now?_

**I can’t sleep.**

_You never can – probably because you chug 50 energy drinks a day._

**It’s more like 5…**

_Still – what do you want me to do, sing you a lullaby?_

**Please don’t sing.**

_Fuck you, like you’re any better._

**Not the point…I almost texted him.**

_Him who?_

**Marc.**

_I didn’t know, I can’t keep up with you anymore._

**Anyway…**

_So why not text him? Grow up a little._

**How does this not make me an adult?**

_Because, idiot, adults tell each other how they feel and don’t mope around feeling sorry for themselves, assuming somebody hates them._

**He should hate me, though. And what makes you think he wants to hear from me?**

_You won’t know if you don’t try, right?_

**Yeah, you’re right. You’re always right. I hate that shit.**

_Love you too…go to sleep, yeah? Or at least let me sleep, I’m old, I need it._

**Ok, Pops…thanks for listening. I owe you one.**

_You owe me about a million…don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow._

He sighed as he put his phone down, wondering how this conversation would even start. “Hey, let’s talk about how I lied to you, how I cheated on you.” Right. Sounds like fun. He cursed and turned onto his side, hoping to get a little sleep and perhaps some clarity on this whole fucked-up situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost had this one done when I posted the first, thus why it's up already. This is all I have written for now but I'll try to work on more over the weekend! Thanks for feedback, much appreciated! :)
> 
> Edit: I realized I left a kind of important line out when I copy/pasted this in here to post...ugh! Fixed now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re going to say good-bye to your 20’s, might as well go out with a bang, right?

After finally passing out after who knows how long, Neymar awoke to a text notification.

_Hey, stranger…been a while._

A grin crossed his face as he replied. **It has. How are you? Getting better?**

_Working on it. In the meantime, I thought about a trip to Spain. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who has room for me?_

**I don’t know, you take up a lot of room.**

_You know that very well._

**Shit…you better come stay with me.**

_That was the plan._

**When are you coming?**

_As soon as I see you._

**I’m flattered…but I mean when are you arriving?**

_Tomorrow. Text me your address and I’ll be there after you finish training._

**Sounds good, looking forward to seeing you.**

Neymar sat his phone down, a wide grin crossing his face. The summer had been insane for him – back home to Brazil, training with the national team, the World Cup, his injury, spending most of the summer in that fucking back brace, but making the most of it in Ibiza. He laughed to himself, shaking his head as he recalled that trip.

It was on a whim, really, like most things he did. He wasn’t one for planning, a fact that drove most of the people around him crazy. He had developed cabin fever, oh, maybe two or three days into being sequestered at home after his injury and kept threatening to just pack up and leave. It took him about a month to actually do it, but since he needed to get back to Spain for work, why not go early and enjoy himself? He’d planned on going to Ibiza anyway, before the injury happened. He knew he needed the trip, to unwind and to refocus. Well, he wasn’t sure how much refocusing happened, but he definitely unwound.

The trip was a success, aside from the stupid tan line he got from the back brace. He came out of it relaxed and finally feeling “normal” again after a month of being coddled by everybody, as though if they even looked at him sideways, he would crumble into a billion pieces. As much as the injury affected him, he felt like everybody around him was just a little too cautious. It was nice to get away and just have fun without everybody nagging him for moving the wrong way or something.

Shit. Tomorrow. He had a lot to do. Make sure the house is clean, make sure there’s enough food – he hadn’t even asked how long his guest would be staying. What was that about doing everything on a whim? It did backfire occasionally. He made a couple of phone calls and got everything taken care of, breathing a sigh of relief. It was stupid, but he wanted everything to be perfect. This visit meant a lot to him, more than he let on.

He had been surprised to get a text in German a day or so after his injury, asking how he was feeling. After quickly determining that they should switch to another language, English, which really wasn’t much better than his non-existent German, Neymar and his new friend ended up exchanging a long series of texts. It had started out as simple well-wishes, but their newfound friendship blossomed fairly quickly and before Neymar knew it, he was inviting his friend to join him in Ibiza. It was his birthday, he needed to celebrate, and what better place to do it? If you’re going to say good-bye to your 20’s, might as well go out with a bang, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had a bit of writer's block...hoping to have more up soon! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in YEARS, so please be gentle! :) I honestly have no idea where this is going or how long it will be - I hope you enjoy! :)


End file.
